


Pegged for a Poser

by VioletMoodSwings



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Anal Sex, F/M, Other, Pegging, Smut, Time Lords are Gender-Fluid, role play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:02:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29304687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletMoodSwings/pseuds/VioletMoodSwings
Summary: The Doctor channels a previous self. The Master is intrigued.Written for the Kinkbruary prompt "Role Playing"
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Pegged for a Poser

**Author's Note:**

> Written quickly. Definitely not beta-ed, not even by me! BUT WHAT'S A CHALLENGE WITHOUT A CHALLENGE, EH? Enjoy the shenanigans.

The Master gazed with suspicious fascination at the Doctor as she strode into the TARDIS library. A purple frock coat hung off her tiny shoulders, its tails flapping in her wake. Her gait was even more ungainly than usual as she ambled over to a bookshelf near the overstuffed chair he occupied. Straightening her bowtie, the Doctor checked the pocketwatch chained to her waistcoat. Her back was to him as she pulled down a dusty tome, flipping through it casually while pointedly ignoring her best enemy.

He hated to be ignored. He knew that she knew that, but couldn’t resist the bait. The Master purposefully snapped shut the old hardcover book he’d been thumbing through. The resulting noise caused the Doctor to peer over her shoulder at him.

“Oh. Hello,” she said, sounding suddenly like she’d just wandered out from behind from an anchor’s desk at the BBC. “What are you doing on my TARDIS?”

This aroused the Master’s curiosity – he’d been here as her guest for weeks. He recognized her getup – after all, it had inspired his current sartorial inclinations, though he’d never admit it to even himself – but what was she playing at? He rose from the chair.

“Just seeing how the amateurs operate,” he replied, placing the first edition copy of “The Prince” on a coffee table.

The Doctor squinted at him. “I’ve spotted you around. Lurking at the ends of corridors. Around corners in darkened alleys.”

The Master snorted. “Have you now?”

The Doctor half-turned towards him, but it was still an awkward angle for conversation.

“Well not recently, no. I see you found my tailor, though,” she said with a smirk, motioning to his outfit.

The Master’s look of intrigue turned to a glower.

“Why did you stop following me?” she asked.

“What _are_ you on about?” the Master asked testily. That odd impersonation was starting to pluck at his nerves.

The Doctor ignored him again. “So, who are you?”

“Did you bump your head on the console fixing the gyro conductor scope again?”

“Ooh, is this a game of ‘Questions’?”

The Master’s temper rose to a simmer.

“Stop that.”

“Best two out of three?”

“ _No_!”

“Game, set, match!” the Doctor said delightedly. “Go one then, be a sport. I’m simply dying to know the identity of my mysterious admirer.”

“You keep this up and you certainly will be.” Infuriated, the Master closed the gap between them.

The Doctor looked him straight in the eyes, frowning like she was solving quantum mechanics equations in her head.

“Oh,” she finally breathed. “Oh my.”

The Master spun her around to face him. “Well??”

Her eyes widened as something akin to sentimentality washed over her features. “I’d… just like to hear you say it.”

“Say what?” the Master demanded.

“Your name.”

He inhaled deeply, tamping the rage down momentarily.

“Master,” he spat.

As he stared into her eyes, it was almost as if they’d turned an enthralling shade of green. A tender smile draped itself across the Doctor’s face.

“I often wondered if it was you,” she said. “I think I must have known, deep down.”

It was the Master’s turn to do the ignoring. “Now you,” he growled, grabbing the Doctor by her overlarge lapels.

“Me what?” she said, clearly flustered, but not frightened.

“Say my name,” he growled.

The Master tugged roughly on her jacket. She gasped as he pulled her flush against his body, waistcoat to waistcoat.

Something very solid suddenly pressed into his thigh.

“M-master,” she said with owlish eyes.

Still jerking her around by the lapels like a rag doll, the Master pushed her back to arm’s length. His eyes flew down to the large tent beneath the fly of the Doctor’s trousers.

He managed to cover his surprised interest at this development with a sneer. “Sonic screwdriver?”

The Doctor looked embarrassed. “Ah, yes, well… you see… it’s… um… I suppose I’m just… well...” her reddening face deepened to a crimson. “Happy to see you?”

The two regarded each other from that arm’s length. The Master’s mind whirred and ticked until everything finally clicked into place.

A devious grin slid across his face. “I see.”

Instead of pulling the Doctor to him, the Master stepped in, pushing her up against the sturdy bookcase. Caging her in with his arms, he ground his thigh against the solid object in her trousers – decidedly not a sonic screwdriver. He slowly leaned his face towards hers. The tips of their noses touched.

Suddenly, the Doctor sidestepped, ducking under his arm. Intrigued by the scenario, the Master let her go. Ten feet away, a ladder on wheels hung from a rail above the bookcases. The Doctor snagged it and rolled it over to the Master. When she stepped up onto the bottom rung it put her about half a head taller than him.

“That’s more like it,” she murmured, momentarily breaking character, and motioned for him to move closer.

He obliged, looking up at her with lustful eyes. He slipped the coat from her shoulders and brushed against the Doctor as he laid it over the highest rung he could reach. Task completed, he shifted so they were nose-to-nose again. Though the height difference wasn’t extraodinary, the Master still felt at a disadvantage. To compensate, he grabbed the Doctor by the back of the head and smashed her lips to his.

She let out a little “mmph!” and flailed. He thought it was a balancing measure, but when he steadied the Doctor with one arm, the flailing continued. He’d done his due diligence. The Master pushed his way into her mouth with his tongue. The thrashing subsided as she allowed him entry. The Doctor leaned into the kiss, and eventually slipped and arm around his neck.

Without breaking the kiss, the Master slid a hand down her body, across the buttons of her waistcoat to the fly of her trousers. Deftly and with the benefit of many centuries’ practice he undid the fasteners, reaching inside. Out popped a respectably-sized, plum-colored strap-on, a shade that complimented both their outfits.

“Is that for me?” the Master purred with amusement, giving it a stroke.

“All for you,” the Doctor sighed into his lips. That accent coming out of this throat was still uncanny.

She gently pushed him backwards. Redoing the button on her trousers but leaving her purple cock to bob in the air, the Doctor stepped off the ladder. She led the Master to a leather couch by the fireplace, the one, she’d told him, that her last incarnation had enjoyed so much with Whatsername. For now, at least, he would allow her plan to unfurl.

She removed his coat and slung it over the back of the sofa. Leaning in hesitantly, the Doctor placed a timid kiss on the Master’s mouth, unbuttoning his waistcoat with trembling fingers. He licked her lips and deepened the kiss as she pushed the waistcoat off his shoulders and onto the couch cushion behind him.

“Hey,” the Master groused, turning indignantly on heel to bend over and retrieve the garment. Couldn’t have it full of wrinkles.

The Doctor stepped in, purple cock pressed against his arse.

“Well now, Doctor,” the Master chuckled. “I suppose you know a good thing when you see it.”

Her arms curled around him, undoing his trousers. His half-hard prick immediately jumped to attention when she wrapped her hand around it.

“And feel it, too,” the Doctor said, carefully pushing him forward.

The Master allowed her to guide him onto his knees on the couch. He braced himself on the back. The Doctor shimmied his trousers and underpants down around his thighs and hummed appreciatively.

“Enjoying the view?” the Master said, smirking at her from over his shoulder.

“Can’t be beat,” the Doctor replied, an impish glint creeping into her eyes. “Not today, anyway.”

The Master’s eyebrows shot up. Surprises abound.

The Doctor pulled something out of her trouser pocket. The tell-tale “click” of a bottle cap followed. With a warm hand she caressed the cheek of his arse. Then a cold digit prodded at the tight ring of his arsehole, spreading the lube around.

“Relax,” she said soothingly.

The Master shot her a dirty look, then took a deep breath. The Doctor gradually readied him with a finger. By the time she comfortably got two in, he was purring and lightly rocking back into her.

“I’ve wanted to do this for millennia,” she said reverently. “Are you ready?”

“When have I ever _not_ been ready?” the Master snapped.

“Fair point,” the Doctor said, pressing the slick head of her cock against him.

Closing his eyes, the Master used some deep breathing exercises that, before he’d attempted to destroy the planet, he’d picked up on Gheidovl.

The Doctor eased decisively into him with minuscule strokes. The Master groaned and breathed into it. Soon enough she was deep inside him. Through the material of his shirt, the buttons of the Doctor’s waistcoat indented into his back as she held him for a moment. It was… comforting. And frustrating. The Master bucked back into the Doctor – a demand.

“For someone who waited so long to get this, you certainly are impatient,” the Doctor said, amused.

“Just get on with it.”

He could feel the Doctor shrug. “As you like.”

She grabbed his hips with both hands, pausing for what the Master assumed with an eye roll was dramatic effect, before plowing into him.

He gasped as the Doctor’s cock grazed his prostate with each stroke. His own uncomfortably hard erection bobbed with the momentum. The Master spit in his palm and fisted his hand around his prick.

“Are you touching yourself?” the Doctor panted through her exertions.

“Yes,” the Master replied, himself breathless.

Pleasure coursed through his body. By now they were both dripping with sweat.

“That leather needs conditioning anyway,” the Doctor puffed. He could hear the grin in her voice.

The Master opened his mouth for a snarky rejoinder just as the Doctor redoubled her efforts, pounding into him mercilessly. The Doctor knew what she was doing – as well she should, they’d been fucking each other like this since time immemorial.

“Fuck… fuck...” the Master chanted. His hand slid furiously along his cock, matching the Doctor’s thrusts.

“Are you going to come for me? Master...”

The Master let out a cry of passion at the sound of his name, his hand a blur on his prick. “Oh yes… harder… _harder_!”

The Doctor slammed into him with what must have been all her might. The Master suddenly let out a shout as his hips stuttered between his hand and the Doctor’s cock. Thick ropes of his semen coated the leather before him.

The Doctor rode out his orgasm, and then gradually came to a stop. Panting, she laid her cheek on his heaving spine and pet the back of his damp head as his shuddering subsided.

“You’re always a good workout,” the Doctor said fondly. Her usual accent had returned.

The Master mentally collected himself before responding.

“Where did _that_ come from?” he asked.

“Well, it was a lot of exerci--”

“ _Not that_.”

The Master winced as the Doctor slowly pulled her cock from him.

“Call it debt collection,” she replied and plopped down on the sofa, straightening her bowtie. He turned and gingerly sat beside her.

“What for?”

“Cadging my style.”

The Master scowled. “ _Your_ style,” he muttered under his breath.

“Don’t even try to deny it, I _know_ you went to my tailor – only Smitty creates such beautifully cut suits without getting the trouser length right.”

THE END


End file.
